The instant I stepped into my room, Patausche started asking questions, like she’d been waiting there to ambush me.
“And…? How did Dotta do? Did he improve any?”
With a goddess by her side, Patausche enjoyed a degree of freedom unusual for a penal hero. As long as she was with Teoritta, she was free to visit our barracks under the pretense that Teoritta had to train with her knight.
So here she was, casually seated at our shabby table with Teoritta. But they weren’t my only visitors. Venetim was here, too, sitting on the bed and looking distinctly uncomfortable.
All four of us were entangled in Adhiff’s nefarious plot. Our lineup was so pathetic, it made me want to cry, but there was no one else I could turn to. Jayce was gone, Norgalle would explode if he heard about a conspiracy like this, and Rhyno creeped me the hell out. I could have asked Tsav, but he was occupied with another task that I could only hope was going smoothly.
“Trishil is a highly skilled warrior,” said Patausche. She’d fought her firsthand, so she probably knew what she was talking about. “With both of you training him, he must have improved. I can tell Dotta has potential. Even if he’s just dodging and counterattacking, he should have a chance.”
“Really?” Teoritta looked surprised. She was cradling a warm cup of milk in her hands. “Dotta…has potential? I can’t imagine handing him one of my swords…”
“I’m talking about potential, Goddess Teoritta, not current skill level.”
I was glad Patausche had opted to explain; I would’ve just made some smartass comment.
“Dotta possesses extraordinarily quick reflexes and excellent agility that, coupled with his sharp eyesight, give him the potential to become an exceptional swordsman. Hypothetically speaking, with some solid basic training, he could become a real monster.”
“Interesting… I had no idea Dotta had such potential…!”
“Just another case of wasted talent,” I said, chiming in. I didn’t want Teoritta getting her hopes up. “He’s not a fighter. He doesn’t like quarreling with people. He’s never needed to, either. That’s the real problem. Whether it’s hand-to-hand combat or business, people improve at stuff like that because they have the desire to become better than someone else. Normal people do, anyway. Dotta doesn’t have a trace of that competitive mindset.”
Dotta simply didn’t see fighting others as a means of survival. If he needed something, he would simply steal it. With no need to pay for things, he had no connection to the world of currency and transactions. There was no need to struggle or compete with anyone to get what he wanted; he could just take it. That was his reality. When it came to theft, he was extraordinarily talented—and that was precisely why he lacked any real drive to fight.
“He doesn’t feel the urge to get stronger; I doubt he even understands it.”
“This is a serious problem,” said Patausche. “We need to take drastic measures, and it can’t wait until tomorrow.”
“Don’t bother. It’s pointless. If we work him too hard, he might just die on us.”
I could see where Patausche was coming from. Soldiers frequently found themselves skirting the edge of death in combat. Many underwent brutal training designed to push them to their limits, and it was well known that such experiences could really toughen up a person. But it was different with Dotta. If we put him through the wringer, it might actually kill him.
“What’s the plan, then?” Patausche was dead serious. “Because our original idea was to have him win the Sword Offering so we could join the divine election as guards and secure funding. If he doesn’t win, the rest isn’t happening.”
“Yeah. I guess we’ll just have to pray he somehow gets lucky.”
“…Do you honestly believe he has a chance?”
“No, I don’t. Dammit! Was this plan doomed from the start? We’re short on time, and there are so many other issues we need to focus on… Venetim!”
Venetim was sitting at the back of the room, staring at a newspaper with his eyes glazed over.
“How are things going with the Temple?” I asked. “You said you would look into that high priest’s rivals.”
“Yes, I got all the information we need,” he said breezily, but I knew things like that weren’t so easy. Determining who had the advantage and by how much required an intimate understanding of every faction involved.
“How did you look into it? You’re not lying again, are you?”
“What? No, of course not. It was easy to figure out. Betting has already started, and the odds have been posted. I used an old contact to help me conduct some interviews at the Adventurers Guild.”
“Hold up… Are you saying what I think you’re saying? People at the Adventurers Guild are betting on who’s gonna be the next archpriest?”
“People are even more excited about it than the Sword Offering.”
Maybe the world deserved to be destroyed. Then again, preaching morality to adventurers was like herding cats.
“Currently, three high priests have announced their candidacy. The oldest and most conservative is High Priest Carne, followed by High Priest Duffrey, who is advocating for large-scale reforms. Last is High Priest Mirose, who claims to favor neutrality.”
“And one of those three is a coexister.”
That much was certain, considering how concerned Adhiff was about the coexisters ascending to the highest position in the Temple.
“…This is merely my opinion,” said Patausche, “but I think it’s most likely High Priest Mirose is the coexister.”
Once again, she was the best informed.
“Claiming you’re neutral sounds good on paper, but it’s also an easy way to get the most votes. She’d probably stop at nothing to win, including joining hands with the coexisters.” She paused, reining in her emotions. “She was close with my uncle as well. I remember hearing her name quite often.”
That pretty much confirmed it. Venetim probably hadn’t grasped the full implications of Patausche’s statement, but he nodded anyway, eager to move the conversation forward.
“Well, she seems to be the most favorable candidate at the moment,” he said.
“You mean the bookies are giving her low odds?” I asked. “Do most people really expect her to win?”
“Yes. After all, she has abundant campaign funds. And…uh, supposedly, she has financial backing from, um…” Venetim grew hesitant. “…from the Verkle Development Corporation. They’re really propping her up… I wonder if that’s even legal.”
“Verkle? That’s gotta be just a rumor. They— Hold on.”
I was on the verge of dismissing the idea when something hit me. Verkle Corp was initially a commercial venture funded by the Allied Administration Division. However, while it was once under the thumb of the Federated Kingdom, it was now largely autonomous.
Their primary focus was development. In the past, that had meant supporting efforts to fight the Demon Blight out in the frontiers. Basically, they pioneered new weapons using sacred seals. That should have put them at odds with the coexisters, but as a private business, they had different motivations than the government did.
In other words, they’d do anything to make a profit.
If Mirose was indeed neutral, then it was entirely plausible that she had brokered deals with both the coexisters and Verkle Corp, promising each special privileges. Verkle’s ultimate objective was unclear, but they could easily have seen gaining greater influence over the Temple as beneficial to their interests.
“My head hurts,” I grumbled. “I haven’t heard a single bit of good news all day. And that means this Nicold Ibuton guy doesn’t even want to be archbishop, right?”
“It would seem so,” Venetim agreed. “Rumors suggest he has absolutely no interest in power or factional infighting. And no other high priest would nominate him, so he is not even being considered for the position.”
I admired the grit, but this was not what we needed right now.
“One more thing…,” Venetim continued.
“Come on. Seriously? There’s more to worry about? Whatever. Just say it.”
“I’ll tell you if you promise not to get angry.”
“I won’t get angry, so just say it, dammit! Now!”
“I just saw Dotta climb over the barracks wall, and he was with Rhyno.” Venetim was looking out the window. Dotta might have gone unnoticed if he were alone, but Rhyno stood out like a sore thumb. Dotta should never have brought him along. “I have a very bad feeling about this. Don’t you all?”
“Dammit! Nothing good can come from those two working together.”
I had the sudden urge to pound my fist into a desk. Every last one of these guys is nothing but trouble.
“Venetim, I’m going to head out for a bit. In the meantime, I want you to start racking your brain for good ideas. We need a way to make some money, become official guards during the divine election, get Ibuton to run for archpriest, and ensure his victory. I’m counting on you.”
“What?!”
“Patausche, take Teoritta back to the barracks. It’s already late. You two need to sleep.”
“If you’re going after them, then take me with you,” said Patausche. “There’s no telling what they might be up to.”
“No, I’ll handle this. I need you well-rested and in tip-top shape.” I patted Patausche on the shoulder, then stood up. “You’ve been helping other knights train for the tournament all day, right? Sleep. You’re the only one I can count on right now, so don’t exhaust yourself. I’d die of stress without you.”
“M-mnnn…!” Patausche cleared her throat. “D-d-don’t think you can win me over with cheap flattery…!”
“Just get some rest.”
I didn’t have time to grab my usual weapons belt, so I only took a single knife. Surely, that would be more than enough to stop Dotta…